


I Feel Like Something New

by Trotter



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - College/University, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 04:28:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19899835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trotter/pseuds/Trotter
Summary: “I can’t believe the two of you grew up together,” Jihoon says with a snort. “It’s like you were too good for this world and the universe had to throw in Jeonghan to balance it out.”"But you like Jeonghannie-hyung," Seokmin points out.Jihoon shrugs. "That doesn't mean I'll be able to stand him for fourteen years."(alternate title: How not to Reject a Love Confession, by Yoon Jeonghan)





	I Feel Like Something New

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Your Dog Loves You by Colde ft crush, suggested listening is Kataomoi by Aimer, and yeah, that basically sums up this whole fic.

Contrary to Soonyoung’s promises ( _it’ll be suuuuper lowkey, Seoku! (_ _☆▽☆)_ read his text _)_ Seokmin’s going-away party is _massive_. Vaguely familiar faces from around campus keep shaking his hand and wishing him luck in America, telling him they’re happy for him, and it’s overwhelming, but nice.

“Make sure you don’t get trampled,” says Jihoon, and Seokmin looks up at him guiltily from his hiding spot in the kitchen. Jihoon sighs, runs a hand through his hair and plops down on to the chair next to him. “I told Seungkwan and Soonyoung they were going overboard.”

“Really, it’s fine,” Seokmin insists. His best friends have been cooking this up for a while: it wouldn’t be surprising if they handed out invitations like candy for fear of not inviting someone important Seokmin might want to say goodbye to. “They did well.”

Jihoon studies him, small face serious. Seokmin tries not to fidget under his gaze.

“It really won’t be the same without you.”

Seokmin smiles, startled and pleased. “Thanks, Jihoonie-hyung.”

“Haven’t really seen you around these days,” Jihoon continues. “Wonwoo kept whining about missing his cute dongsaeng during the last meetup, and only seventy per cent of that was him complaining for the hell of it. Same with Coups.”

As he raises a bottle of soju to his lips, he flicks Seokmin a glance out of the tail of his eye, and possibly –probably—notices how uncomfortable he is. His eyebrows draw up for a beat before he looks away and says, “But then again, finals are no joke no matter what Kwon Soonyoung says so I’m glad you’re taking your studies seriously.”

Seokmin's shoulders curve with relief. “Yes, hyung.”

Jihoon hums. He doesn’t say anything more, but he’s a warm, solid weight at Seokmin’s side, working through the ranks of the alcohol on the table in front of them. He’s no better at drinking than Seokmin is, so bottles in hand they watch the crowd that trickles in and out of the kitchen, not paying them any mind.

Presently, Jihoon says, “Kim Mingyu’s in form today. You’d think they’d set aside their petty differences after three years.”

Seokmin can barely bring himself to agree, his attention caught on who Mingyu’s arguing _with;_ smirking a little, adding an airy little comment here and there just to rile Mingyu up even further. 

“I can’t believe the two of you grew up together,” Jihoon says with a snort. “It’s like you were too good for this world and the universe had to throw in Jeonghan to balance it out.”

The comment flies over Seokmin’s head.

It’s been years since they last spoke, but Jeonghan’s the same: the same honey-brown hair, the same smooth pale skin. He’s a little skinnier -did he stick through their promise to go to the gym?- and his face has a pronounced oval shape that Seokmin never would have seen coming ten years ago. Despite two years of silence, the tone and cadence of Jeonghan’s voice as he needles Mingyu settles into Seokmin's ears with a familiarity of having listened to it for years, a whole lifetime. 

Something like a lead weight settles in his chest. He shouldn’t have been so surprised: for all Soonyoung and Seungkwan knew, he and Jeonghan were still…whatever they used to be, before Jeonghan graduated. “Jihoonie-hyung,” Seokmin says, almost stumbling over his feet as he climbs out of his chair. “Jihoonie-hyung, I’m going to go outside for a—”

“—you agree with me, right, Seokmin-ah?” Mingyu hollers loud enough to carry through the entire apartment.

Jeonghan’s head snaps towards them instantly, and his eyes go wide, lips falling apart when he finally notices Seokmin.

Their gazes slot together and Seokmin takes in a quick, shallow gasp of breath.

He should leave, but his legs feel heavy and his breathing is tight, moreover, he can’t leave without getting assailed by a million people asking where he was going—but these might be excuses he tells himself to stay a little longer.

“--Seokmin-ah?”

Seokmin snaps out it, blinking rapidly. He hasn’t heard a word of what Jeonghan has said. There’s something almost like shock settling into his bones with how Jeonghan is right in front of him—he’d imagined seeing him again, but it was years from now, when Seokmin was older, more mature, more _equipped_ to handling the way Jeonghan is tentatively half-smiling at him. Up close, he’s so beautiful it hurts to look at him. Seokmin opens his mouth to say something -too aware of how he’s gone stiff, and Jihoon, who’s still leaning against him is bound to notice- only to realize that he doesn’t have anything to say, and that his throat is almost too dry to speak. 

“I haven’t seen you in months,” Jeonghan says, with a hint of his usual playful pout. Seokmin flushes. “I was starting to think you’d died, when Soonyoungie texted me.”

“I didn’t,” Seokmin croaks. His breathing sounds weird even to his ears.

He looks at Jihoon nervously but he’s too engrossed in a conversation with Mingyu to hear, snapping when Mingyu’s overenthusiastic hand gestures smack him in the face, looking for all the world as if it’s perfectly natural to be close with Mingyu, who Seokmin thought didn’t get on with any of their quiet, calculating hyungs particularly well. When did they get close? What else had changed?

“I’ll say,” Jeonghan says. He either doesn’t notice how awkward Seokmin’s being, or he’s ignoring it. “This scholarship is a big deal. You must have worked very hard.”

Seokmin nods, because he really hadn’t thought he would get it. His grades in his first two years of college were good, but nowhere near enough to get a musical theater scholarship in New York.

“I didn’t believe it when Soonyoung told me. For all I knew, you were still interested in films,” Jeonghan says. He sounds light, conversational, but Seokmin hears the underlying _what happened._ He peers up the scant two inches of height Seokmin gained on him when he was sixteen and he looks uncertain, his lashes almost golden in the dim light.

Seokmin stares at him, unable to say a word. It always, always ends up like this: either he says too much or can’t manage to say anything at all, and Jeonghan never gets it.

“I thought you loved movies,” Jeonghan says, while Seokmin’s still struggling. He looks at Seokmin with the _why_ written plainly in his eyes. “I know the switch to musicals isn’t a huge leap but—we used to talk about how we’d get our own agency. I’m sorry,” Jeonghan says, catching Seokmin’s expression. “I know this is a big deal and I’m happy for you, I am. It’s just. I don’t understand.”

Soonyoung had asked the same question, albeit more directly, as had Seungkwan and Jihoon and Mingyu and countless others. Seokmin had no answer and therefore no option but to dodge it as best as he could, which generally wasn't very well, not so much because he was a bad liar but because he’d spent the majority of his life babbling about how much he wanted to act in films but ended up relentlessly chasing down a career starring in musicals as soon as he started his third year in college. Acting in a musical is something he’s always dreamed about but acting in a proper film was something that lit a fire of _want_ in his bones ever since he heard Jeonghan talking excitedly about it, almost ten years ago.

“Did something happen to make you give it up?” Jeonghan says softly.

Seokmin wonders if he looks as terrified as he feels, because Jeonghan closes his eyes and visibly braces himself before he continues. “You switched majors as soon as I graduated, Seokmin-ah.”

Seokmin finally, finally finds his voice. “It’s not your fault, hyung.”

Jeonghan’s eyes narrow. “When you say it like that it’s obvious that it really is, Seokmin-ah.”

Seokmin flounders. Jeonghan has always, always been able to read him too easily— and Seokmin doesn’t remember ever having anything to hide. Seokmin’s never thought of it as unfair, but he can’t help the stirrings of resentment that makes him look away from Jeonghan now. He’s never begrudged Jeonghan his secrets, so is it so bad that Seokmin keeps this _one_ _thing_ close to his chest?

“It’s not,” he repeats, a little more forcefully this time. “I swear.”

“Seokmin-ah—”

“It’s not your fault that I gave up on acting, hyung,” Seokmin says, and something about the way he said makes Jeonghan bite his lip so hard it turns white, and look away.

Staring at the photo of the Seungkwan-Soonyoung-Seokmin trio on the fridge, Jeonghan says, “Why did you even come to this school if your interest was in musicals? There’s better programs in other colleges.”

_I came here for you._

He came to this college to follow Jeonghan, the same way he followed him to high school, to middle school, into the sandbox they played as kids, Jeonghan gap-toothed and the coolest prettiest boy in the world, the best thing that happened to Seokmin at five years old, at seventeen, at twenty getting his heart broken by Jeonghan but _still being in love with him_ two years later. The world has always begun and ended with Jeonghan for him, and that realization that he wasn’t really anything if he wasn’t chasing Jeonghan’s shadow was what made him apply to a scholarship that would take him so far away.

He’d thought he was doing well -growing up, becoming his own person- but it only takes one look from Jeonghan for him to throw it all away just to be near Jeonghan, waiting for any throwaway scraps of affection. Seokmin’s angry, but most of it’s directed at himself: have the past two years taught him _nothing_ about independence?

Still looking away, Jeonghan says, his cheeks colored, “Is it because… that day, I—near the river, with the cherry blossoms—”

Seokmin blinks at him.

“The confession,” Jeonghan says, almost inaudibly. He looks back at Seokmin, still wearing that delicate blush. “Is it because of…that?”

_Are you leaving because I said I didn’t feel the same way about you._

In every version of his imagined scenarios when he reunited with Jeonghan, he has the maturity chuckle at this question, followed by the line _My life doesn’t revolve around you, hyung,_ that he’d recite effortlessly, but how can he say that now when it so painfully _does?_

Yes, he is going because Jeonghan rejected him. No, not because of the reason that Jeonghan thinks.

“…Really?” Jeonghan says, taking Seokmin’s uncertain silence the worst possible way. “Seokmin-ah—”

“It’s not,” Seokmin blurts, but Jeonghan’s unhappy expression doesn’t leave his face.

“Hyung, I promise you it’s okay.”

Too late he realizes that his voice is too loud: Jihoon and Mingyu have trailed off their conversation to watch them warily.

Seokmin leaps out of his seat. All of a sudden it’s too much for him: his friends’ concern and the way Jeonghan looks at him, all quiet sad looks as if he was the one who was hurt. Then he hates himself immediately for the selfishness of the thought, because of course Jeonghan was hurt, he was nowhere near as thoughtless as he pretended to be.

“I think I saw Shua-hyung,” Seokmin manages, a dreadful half-excuse, before he books it out of the kitchen.

He wanders the apartment in a horrified daze until Soonyoung shoots out his hand and nabs him.

“Hey hey superstar,” he sings, throwing his arm around him and rubbing their cheeks together. The girl he’s been talking to giggles, as all girls do whenever they interact. “Where’ve you been? I’ve had like thirty people ask me where you are.”

“I, uh. Kitchen.”

Soonyoung shakes him a little back and forth, like that’ll rattle some answers out. “ _Booring._ Doing what?”

“Just talking. With Jihoon and, um, Jeonghan.”

Soonyoung blinks at him for a second, looking far more sober than Seokmin had initially thought he was. “Jeonghan, huh. Anything to do with why Mingyu is sending me all these SOS texts?”

Damn his tiny observant eyes, Seokmin thinks as Soonyoung excuses them from the girl –she giggles again, for some reason—and begins dragging him past a heated game of Jenga, Minghao’s circle of wine bottles and Seungcheol destroying everyone at Guitar Hero, into the balcony where it’s cool and quiet. He wipes at his shiny forehead unhappily, making no progress until Seokmin laughs and lifts his shirt and wipes his face down.

“I should get one of those battery fans,” he says. “Seoku, bring me one from America. A big one. I’m going to wear it all the time and never sweat again.”

“Aren’t you a dancer?”

“Eh, I’ll manage.”

“You could spin opposite to the rotations of the fan,” Seokmin suggests. “That way it wouldn’t fly off.”

Soonyoung turns to him with pure, uncomplicated delight. “That’s genius! I won’t ever get dizzy either!”

Seokmin laughs and bonks him on the head. _If only things could stay like this forever,_ he thinks. He could live forever in Soonyoung’s parents’ house, eating pizza and listening to his bad jokes.

 _If only I’d fallen in love with Soonyoung,_ he thinks and immediately feels terrible about it.

“Now you’re sad again,” Soonyoung says, drooping. He comes to lean on the edge next to Seokmin, looking pensive. “Did something happen?”

“No, not really.”

“Liar liar pants on fire,” Soonyoung says. “Didn’t you want to see Jeonghan before you left?”

When Seokmin looks at him, wide-eyed, he shrugs. “Seoku, I’m not sure how to break this to you, but you two aren’t exactly _subtle._ I don’t know the details of what happened, but—”

“Jeonghannie-hyung rejected me,” Seokmin tells the cool night air. Soonyoung makes a noise beside him, soft and stunned, but Seokmin doesn’t look at him. “Two years ago, right before he graduated I told him I loved him and he said he didn’t feel the same way about me.”

Once the truth is out Seokmin feels like a deflated balloon, lighter, but somehow emptier. Soonyoung _knows_ now, and Seokmin isn’t sure if telling him was a good idea or not, but there’s this: someone other than Seokmin and Jeonghan knows that Seokmin’s in unrequited love with his childhood friend. When it was unspoken it had been something Seokmin could keep boxed up in his mind forever. Now it’s in the real world, a truth he’s dumped on Soonyoung to do with it what he pleases.

When he works up the courage to look at him, Soonyoung looks pale like something had snuck up on him and punched him in the ribs. “I—” he stammers, “I had no idea. You. That you liked him.” When Seokmin raises his eyebrows, Soonyoung flushes a little and says, “You know what I mean. That you liked him that much, I meant. L-loved him. Is that why you haven’t been coming to our get-togethers? Because Jeonghan might be there?”

Shamefaced, Seokmin nods.

“Coups gave me so much grief about that,” Soonyoung says. “All _you can’t monopolize your dongsaengs, Hoshi-yah._ Especially since Seungkwannie stopped going too, to keep you company. Wait.” Soonyoung’s eyes go narrow. “Did he know?”

Seokmin shakes his head. Seungkwan hadn’t known; not for sure, anyway, though he had absolutely no doubt that Seungkwan had guessed and kept quiet, supported him in his own subtle way.

And now here’s Soonyoung, looking almost distraught on his behalf. How did all his friends have hearts of gold?

“I’m so sorry, Seoku.”

“It’s fine, hyung. It was a long time ago.”

“No, I meant,” Soonyoung swallows. “I was the one who invited him today. I’m an idiot. Seungkwannie probably would have known better.”

Before Seokmin can find a way to tell him it’s not his fault, the door to the balcony opens and they both tense for a brief moment before they realize who it is.

“What’s this about me?” Seungkwan quips, stepping out into the balcony. A wall of chatter follows him through the door, and he grimaces before he shuts it. “If we don’t wind down soon the neighbors will call your parents,” he tells Soonyoung.

Soonyoung shrugs. “Dad throws wilder parties than this anyway. The only reason I waited till the last minute to do this is because I wanted them to be out. Otherwise Dad would want to join in.”

Knowing Soonyoung’s dad, he’s probably speaking from experience.

“Regardless,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes, “it’s a work night for most of the hyungs, and Seokminnie-hyung has to catch his flight on time. I’ll go spread unwelcoming vibes at around eleven.” Thus decided, their capable dongsaeng leans on Seokmin’s other side and crosses his legs. “What were you two talking about?”

Seokmin says, “How Jeonghannie-hyung turned me down,” and both his friends choke.

“Seoku, a little—how are you so casual—”

“It’s Seungkwannie,” Seokmin points out. “He probably knew before I did.”

Seungkwan doesn’t deny it, just hums a little and links his arm with Seokmin’s. “It must have been tough,” he says, leaning his head on Seokmin’s shoulder. Soft yellow hair tickles Seokmin’s cheek. “Keeping it inside all this time.”

Unexpected tears sting Seokmin’s eyes. He blinks.

Seungkwan rubs his back gently. “It’s okay to be sad, hyung. But remember that you’re going to be okay.”

Seokmin marvels at the ease with which Seungkwan says all of this even as tears drip off his nose. It’s as if he’s held these words inside him for as long as Seokmin’s been carrying his broken heart around, ready to be spoken to lay over the jagged wound of Seokmin’s own confession, to help it mend and heal.

Soonyoung gives them both a hug that makes his ribs ache, and all three of them sniffle, in perfect unison, which in turn makes them laugh.

All his goodwill towards his best friends is gone.

Jeonghan strokes Seungkwan’s fluffy yellow hair and tickles under Soonyoung’s chin, and they both sell him out without blinking. “Have a nice trip home, Jeonghannie-hyung, Seoku~” Soonyoung sing-songs. He stares uncomprehendingly back when Seokmin tries to mentally tell him that he doesn’t want Jeonghan to drop him home, then adds, brightly, “I’ll come and pick you up tomorrow at eight! Make sure everything’s packed!”

Seungkwan laughs at the look on Seokmin’s face but offers no help either, no excuses, no _actually hyung Seokminnie-hyung said he wants to come with me and say goodbye to Hansollie._

“Ready to go, Seokmin-ah?” Jeonghan asks.

Seokmin sighs. “Yeah, hyung,” he mumbles, resigned.

As he turns he catches the look on Soonyoung’s face and thinks, _ah, so he’s worried after all._ They both must be, but he sees now that they probably want him to make amends, and why. He can’t avoid Jeonghan forever: the two years that he did fractured nearly every other friendship that he had.

Jeonghan’s car still smells of new leather. There’s nothing fancy about it – small and serviceable, and Seokmin knows nothing about cars but he bets that this is the most reliable brand on the market. Jeonghan was so conscientious about stuff like that. He wonders when he bought it, where he went for his first drive—if it was anything like the first time the two of them drove around their hometown after Jeonghan got his license, the windows rolled down, shouting with laughter.

“Close the door, Seokmin-ah,” Jeonghan reminds him.

Seokmin starts and does as he’s told. It takes a few quiet moments for his heart to slow down from the usual skip from hearing his name in Jeonghan’s mouth. He thinks, again: _this was a bad idea._

Jeonghan starts the car and the song that fills it is immediately familiar—it’s a song that lives on repeat on Seokmin’s playlists by an artist that Seokmin introduced to Jeonghan. From the way Jeonghan freezes, it’s clear he realizes too.

“I liked the whole album,” Seokmin blurts, unable to stand the way Jeonghan is visibly blaming himself for his lack of foresight. “Especially his collab with Dean.”

Jeonghan looks at him from the corner of his eye, and smiles. It’s tired and hopeful and nervous, all at once. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Seokmin nods. “This one, the range is really high and sweet, I bet it would sound great if you did a cover.”

“Thanks,” says Jeonghan, looking surprised.

“I—yeah, Jeonghannie-hyung.”

Seokmin had underestimated Jeonghan’s effect on him. The sweaty palms, the missed beats of his heart—but also little symptoms that predate those, like the way he wants to tell Jeonghan _everything._ It’s a side effect of being joined at the hip for fourteen years. Compared to that, two years isn’t long enough to unlearn a habit like that.

Seokmin tightens his hands into fists. He can’t let those two years of isolation mean nothing. If nothing else, he knows that his desperate need to stay by Jeonghan’s side won’t bring him anything new, won’t magically make his life change for the better. 

Jeonghan's worrying his lower lip again. “…That’s the first time you’ve said my name in two years.”

Seokmin is uncomfortably aware of this himself. “It’s not a big deal.”

The silence that follows is dense. They’re not the type to have comfortable silences—even Jeonghan, who everyone else claims is the quiet one, tends to speak over Seokmin all the time even when both of them have nothing important to say. No secrets. No unvoiced thoughts, even. 

Seokmin bites back all the words that are threatening to spill out and watches Jeonghan, unable to help himself. Jeonghan still drives with his sleeves rolled back on his forearms, one hand on the steering wheel. He doesn’t look as relaxed as Seokmin’s used to seeing him behind the wheel—the silence must weigh on him as well.

It’s Jeonghan who finally speaks. “You didn’t want to see me today.”

“No.”

Jeonghan’s smile cracks. “That was quick. You’ve really made up your mind, hm?”

“I did _want_ to see you,” Seokmin says—an internal voice screaming, repeatedly _shut up shut up SHUT UP,_ “just not today. Not like this. The timing’s not great, that’s all.”

Last year, when he was crying and shaking in his room. Five years from now, when he’s mature enough to deal with his feelings. Not now. Not when he’s finally worked up the courage to move on.

“I’m sorry then,” Jeonghan says, sounding genuinely contrite. “Soonyoung, you know—”

Seokmin interrupts, “I know.”

“I’m happy for you, at any rate,” Jeonghan says, when the silence threatens to fall once more. He’s using his polite voice that he uses for the neighborhood ahjummas, all teeth.

“Thanks, hyung.”

“You’ve always been so determined about the things you want,” Jeonghan continues. “That’s why I couldn’t believe it when Soonyoung told me. I thought you really would go into films and take the whole world by storm.”

“Well, I’m not,” Seokmin says, tired enough not to care if he’s being rude.

“I just want to know _why—”_

“Please, just drop it, hyung.”

“If you could convince me that it’s not my fault that you suddenly decided to up and leave the country, then I will,” Jeonghan says in a rush. He turns and looks at Seokmin and he looks like he wants to throw up, and Seokmin wonders if he’s been swallowing back words too, if they taste as bitter as the _I love you’_ s that Seokmin feels like he’s choking on. “Because if you really are leaving everything behind because of me I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Hyung, I told you, it’s really not. Please believe me.”

“I never meant to hurt you,” Jeonghan murmurs, sounding desperately sad. “That day, you just—you caught me so off-guard, I thought you liked Soonyoung-ah _for sure,_ so I—I wasn’t prepared, and I ended up being so cruel and blunt. I’m sorry about that, Seokmin-ah.”

Seokmin inhales sharply.

The lights on the shops lining the street seem distant and far away. They catch Jeonghan’s profile, mingle with the glow from the indicator lights on his face and make him seem otherworldly in a way Seokmin can’t even begin to describe.

“I’m sorry too, hyung,” he says in a low, rough voice he hardly recognizes. “I shouldn’t have just cut myself off like that. You didn’t deserve that.”

Jeonghan shakes his head. “I can’t call myself your friend after how cruel I was to you.”

“You just let me down,” Seokmin says, edging on frustration. “Hyung, it’s not like you have to tiptoe around me just because I love you!”

Jeonghan makes an expression that’s half-wild, his eyebrow twitching, his mouth twisting into the strangest shape. “You said _love,_ ” he accuses.

Seokmin furrows his brow in confusion. “Yes, and?”

“That makes it sound like you’re still in love with me.”

Seokmin stares at him, shocked. “Hyung, I am. I’m still in love with you.”

Jeonghan makes a strangled noise. “Don’t say it so casually,” he says without looking at Seokmin.

“But it’s true, I do love you,” Seokmin protests in confusion.

Jeonghan busies himself parking in front of Seokmin’s apartment complex as if he didn’t hear, and Seokmin thinks that’ll be the end of it. They weren’t able to reconcile after all, and when he’s in America Seokmin won’t even be able to indulge in fantasies of reunion with Jeonghan—he’d already said everything he needed to say.

He’s unbuckling his seatbelt when the sound of Jeonghan’s quiet voice stills him.

“I’m not used to people who know what I’m really like saying that.”

Seokmin turns to look at him, notes the downturned face, the white-knuckle grip on the wheel. “But I do know what you’re really like.”

“And that’s exactly why you deserve better,” Jeonghan says, still not looking at him. He looks almost ill. “You can even love me, and I couldn’t even reject you properly.”

Seokmin turns to fully face him, eyes as wide as saucers. He didn't think— this whole time, had Jeonghan...?

Before he can finish the thought, Jeonghan covers his face with his hand. “I kept thinking about it,” he confesses, breathlessly. “How much courage it must have taken to tell me. How cruel I must have been, to make even someone as kind-hearted as you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Jeonghan,” Seokmin says, just as quiet. He thinks that Jeonghan might finally be listening. “You gave me an epiphany about how much I depended on you. I handled it badly.”

Jeonghan exhales in a long, shuddering _whoosh_ and turns in his seat to meet Seokmin’s eyes.

“All the same, I wish I’d learned a little more kindness from you."

“So try it now,” Seokmin blurts. He's not sure what possesses him to say it, except that he realizes, belatedly, that he needs to hear Jeonghan it: the rejection that Jeonghan thinks Seokmin deserves. 

Jeonghan’s lips part in surprise. A beat later he seems to understand what Seokmin meant; he leans forward and gathers Seokmin’s hands in his, eyes glinting with determination.

“Seokmin-ah, you’re the kindest, smartest, most beautiful person I know, and you telling me you loved me was an honor you couldn’t even imagine. If I could control who I liked, I would have chosen you a thousand times over. And even though it’s selfish of me to ask, I’m still shameless enough to ask you to keep being my friend anyway.”

Seokmin can feel his entire face spasm in preparation for tears. He looks down at their joined hands and realizes that they’re shaking because Jeonghan’s physically trembling.

He smiles at Jeonghan through the first wave of tears that fog his eyes. “Of course, hyung. Of course I’ll still be your friend.”

Jeonghan bites his lip hard and nods hard, his throat bobbing. He looks like he doesn’t trust himself to speak.

Seokmin wipes his face messily with his hand before he looks up at his building and then back at Jeonghan. “Want to come inside, hyung?” he asks, tentatively.

Jeonghan looks surprised at the invitation, but nods again, managing a little smile. His eyes are rimmed red, and he looks as much of a mess as Seokmin feels. “Yeah,” he says. It’s an echo of the first time Seokmin asked him to play—fourteen years of history.

“I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may revisit this at some point and write them that happy ending, but I just wanted to get this out of my system for now. I mostly wanted to tackle Seokmin isolating himself in the name of healing and how that's as bad as his codependency with Jeonghan, and him learning to be friends with Jeonghan on his own terms. (in my head they get together like three years and a ridiculous amount of pining after this)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
